Midnight Bucolic

Love the jacket.
Love the scarf,
red, isn’t it?

Is this Vermont?
The sheep nodding
in the valleys.

Put on your boots,
the ones like Dad’s.

The leaves just tinkle
as we walk by.

Hey friend
who taught me
nightmares,

is it me
or is it
the camera angle,

when you sit there,
jacket hung
on its Shaker
peg,

you look like Frost
in his barn
listening to the hens
gaggling all night.